In white spray paint, lengthwise upon the green overpass, were the words, I
apologize, and over it, in dripping pink brush strokes, YOU BURN ME.
A man was dropping garbage onto traffic below.
An overripe pineapple exploded on the windshield of a Dodge Caravan, while a sticky nine of spades with a pink fingerprint in the center adhered to mine.
“Is this your card?” I imagined the man on the overpass asking, but before I
could respond, he jumped.
More: This is Poetry
About Me
- The Nag
- Niagara on the Lake, Ontario, Canada
- My virtue is that I say what I think, my vice that what I think doesn't amount to much.
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